


Bitter Truth

by CapriciousCrab



Category: Green Creek Series - T.J. Klune
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Letters from the past, M/M, Post-Canon, gordo doesn't deal with feelings well but he's doing his best, post brothersong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27789382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapriciousCrab/pseuds/CapriciousCrab
Summary: The dried head of a sunflower, reminiscent of the ones that used to fill the backyard when Marty owned the house, tumbled to the ground next to a crinkled photograph. A handful of letters spilled out onto the floor at his feet, the envelopes tattered and yellowed with age. He crouched to pick them up and froze at the sight of his name scrawled across the front of each one in Mark’s unmistakably neat handwriting.
Relationships: Mark Bennett/Gordo Livingstone
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	Bitter Truth

**Author's Note:**

> We need more Mark and Gordo in our lives.

“Fucking wolves.”

Gordo was standing in the bedroom closet, arms stretched over his head as he attempted to locate some box that Elizabeth adamantly swore held some of her art supplies that Mark had accidentally packed when he had moved out of the big house. He couldn’t understand how one person could own so much shit and swore bitterly when his stump knocked a small box off the shelf and onto the floor. 

“Son of a _bitch_ ,” he hissed, glaring at the stump at the end of his arm before turning that glare to the mess below him.

The dried head of a sunflower, reminiscent of the ones that used to fill the backyard when Marty owned the house, tumbled to the ground next to a crinkled photograph. A handful of letters spilled out onto the floor at his feet, the envelopes tattered and yellowed with age. He crouched to pick them up and froze at the sight of his name scrawled across the front of each one in Mark’s unmistakably neat handwriting. His heart pounded erratically in his chest; the palm of his hand gone sweaty as he slowly reached out to pick them up, his fingers hovering above them as if they had teeth and would bite if he weren’t careful. 

He gathered everything carefully and made his way to the bed, dropping to sit on the side of it. He stared at the envelopes in his lap before taking a deep breath. He opened the letter that sat on the top of the pile then felt his stomach twist as he started reading.

  
  


_… I met someone here in Caswell. He’s funny and tells jokes all the time and sometimes I forget how it feels like I’m empty inside. We went out one night and had a good time. We fucked after and it was fine, it was good. And I hated myself because it wasn’t you, Gordo. It should have been you…_

  
  


The paper crinkled in his grip as a miasma of bitterness and jealousy swirled through him while he read. God knows he had no right to it; he had fucked enough men and thrown the fact of that into Mark’s face too many times for that. Yet he found himself gritting his teeth anyway, his magic rising along with his desire to curse this nameless, faceless man from Mark’s past. He dropped the letter as if it burned him and opened another.

  
  


_… I sit beneath the trees here... and sometimes I feel like I’m losing my mind, Gordo. Thomas is busy with pack business, Elizabeth with the children. And I wander around this compound like a ghost, the wolf inside me howling for something I can never have! For someone who lives on the other end of the country. Everything within me cries out for you ..._

  
  


He could feel Mark’s rage and despair in these written words. They had bled out onto this fragile paper and Gordo almost stopped reading. He wanted to put these letters from the past back into the box they came from, wants to pretend that he isn’t now aware of how Mark suffered while they were broken. But that seems hideously unfair to Mark. Stoic and steadfast Mark, whose only outlet for his own misery was inked on these aged letters. He opened the next letter.

  
  


_… I came back and saw you in town. You were outside the shop with Rico, and you were smiling at something he said. You threw your head back and laughed, and I wanted to run to you, to cover your face with kisses. To tell you that I was sorry. That I was home now and would never leave you again. But then you stiffened up and looked towards where I stood hiding in the shadows and I couldn't make myself move. You're still my tether, Gordo, but it feels so fragile, so thin. Sometimes I think it's killing me to go on without you …_

  
  


It felt like he was choking, the pool of grief inside him still undrained, still holding the bitter dregs of his despair and pain. Gordo dropped the letters into his lap and raised his hand to face, covering his eyes as if to erase the words dancing behind the tightly closed lips. He rocked slightly on the bed and swallowed roughly, lost to the feelings that swamped him. A burning resentment for the time that had been lost, shame at the callous way he had treated Mark. Anger, fierce and bright that still flashed when he thought about his abandonment by Thomas, though that was quick to fizzle out when he rubbed the scarred flesh of the ruined raven tattoo. 

God! He thought that he was finally past all of these… these feelings. He knew now why Thomas had left him behind. He _understood_. And yet these letters filled with Mark's past anguish and rage had brought them all back once more, fierce and bright like flames. 

"Hey."

His head jerked up and swiveled to the doorway. Mark leaned against the frame, a picture of nonchalance that belied the concern in his icy-blue eyes. His gaze was trained on Gordo's face, scrutinizing his expression carefully, and Gordo wondered if Mark could find the secret grief hidden behind the heavy scowl Gordo currently wore like a shield.

Mark frowned and came into the room, crossing the floor to crouch before him. Of course he knew how Gordo was feeling. Fucking wolves.

"Gordo?" Mark's voice was softer this time, meant to soothe as his big hands came up to rub gently over Gordo's thighs. "What's going on? Are you alright- " His voice trailed away as he glanced down to where the letters lay strewn across Gordo's lap and stiffened, his startled gaze shooting up to meet Gordo's unhappy one.

"I wasn't prying," Gordo said defensively. "Elizabeth asked me to find... I knocked the box off the shelf, and it fell… useless fucking stump- " 

He was stuttering, his breath backing up in his chest until Mark leaned forward to nuzzle at his throat, nosing along Gordo's throat until he huffed a soft breath behind Gordo's ear. Gordo relaxed and closed his eyes. He was still prickly about being scented but he needed the comfort Mark was offering right now, though he'd die before admitting it out loud. But he didn't need to say a word. Mark knew.

"Alright, alright, enough of that," he groused, pushing at Mark's shoulder until Mark backed up. "I get enough of the pack shit at the house."

"You love all that pack shit," Mark said. He sat next to Gordo on the bed and nudged his shoulder into Gordo's. "Robbie said he caught you smiling the other day. Said he was worried you might have hit your head or something and almost called me."

Gordo snorted. "The kid's a fucking idiot. And I wasn't _smiling._ Jesus Christ."

"No?"

"No! Look, Gavin threw Carter into a tree. Maybe it was funny. A little."

Mark chuckled and ran his hand over Gordo's arm, watching the tattoos light up beneath his fingers. They were quiet, breathing together in the safety of their room as the emotional landmines from the past sat gingerly in Gordo's lap in the form of tattered letters.

Mark broke the silence. "Elizabeth suggested that I write to you. When we left… I didn't handle it well." His voice was calm but there was something underneath, something that felt as sharp as a blade. "I was angry and fought with Thomas. I disappeared into the woods. I howled for hours until my throat was raw. And it always felt like I was being torn apart."

Gordo wasn't a wolf, but he could feel Mark's lingering anger and grief through the bond they shared, and they mirrored his own.

"Elizabeth came to me one day with Kelly on her hip and a journal in her hand." Mark sighed and gathered up the letters. He ran his fingertips over the faded ink before tucking it back into the envelope unread. "She looked so tired, Gordo, and sad. Carter had asked for you and I-I lost it. I couldn't stand being around them, so I left and stayed in the woods for days. And when I returned, she was waiting."

Mark leaned down and scooped up the dried sunflower and the photo from the floor. He gazed at the picture with a lopsided smile on his face. The bond pulsed with something that felt melancholy and slightly painful, like pressing into an old bruise. He held it out to Gordo with steady hands, and Gordo took it from him with trembling fingers.

“Do you remember this day?” Mark asked.

Gordo swallowed painfully. They’d gone to the movies in town, just them. He had wanted Mark all to himself so he hadn’t told anyone where they were going, but someone must have known to have taken the photo.

“Yeah. Yeah, I remember,” Gordo said roughly. “The movie was shit.”

“It was,” Mark agreed. “But we didn’t care about that, did we?”

They hadn’t cared. It was a chance to be alone, without the pack hovering. Without Rico and Chris and Tanner around to make kissy noises whenever Mark came around. Just them and all the popcorn they could stomach and for a moment Gordo swore he could smell butter in the air.

“Why didn’t you send them?” It came out more accusing than he meant it to and Mark, ever sensitive to Gordo’s shifting moods, moved closer to cup his cheek. 

“Because you were already hurting, Gordo.” Mark’s voice was as gentle as his touch. “And I didn’t want to add to that any more than I already had. I thought it would make it worse.”

He wanted to snap. He wanted to bare his teeth and snarl, to yell that nothing was worse than being completely cut off and left alone. But they’d already gone over those old wounds and there was no point in picking open the barely healed scabs.

So he took a deep breath and unclenched his teeth. “Maybe it would have made things worse. But at least I would have known you still cared.”

“Gordo, I _never_ stopped caring. The truth of that is in those letters.”

“It’s an awfully bitter truth.”

Mark lifted Gordo’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the palm. “I know. And I’m sorry for it.”

Gordo curled his fingers around the kiss and blew out his breath, trying to let go of some of that bitterness. Part of him would always be bruised, which would always ache with the scars of his abandonment, but he was determined not to let that drive him the way it used to. The air between them was still heavy, so he waved his stump toward the sunflower in question, raising an eyebrow when Mark’s cheeks darkened in a flush.

“What’s up with the flower? Looks like it came out of Marty’s garden,” Gordo asked.

Mark cleared his throat and looked at everything in the room but Gordo when he answered. “It did. I came to check on you sometimes… and it was the only part of you I could take home.”

Gordo didn’t know what to do with all the feelings swamping him so he threw himself into Mark’s lap, pressing their mouths together in a kiss that seemed to slow time. It was an echo of the kiss he had given Mark long-ago as a boy; sweet, tender, slightly nervous. But it was also a kiss of forgiveness and understanding and all of the things Gordo wanted to say but wasn't sure how. And as always Mark understood and kissed him back, and the bond pulsed with relief and love. When the kiss ended Gordo rested his forehead against Mark’s, huffing out a laugh when Mark nuzzled their noses together. 

“Are we okay?” Mark asked quietly. 

“I can show you how okay we are,” Gordo said. He ran his hand down Mark’s chest only to stop when Mark’s phone vibrated with an incoming text. Mark wiggled his hand into his jeans and dug out his phone, groaning when he saw Joe’s name. 

“They’re waiting for us. It’s- ” 

“It’s tradition. Yeah, yeah, I know.” He climbed off Mark’s lap and placed the letters, photo, and flower back inside the box, setting it on top of their dresser to deal with later.“Fucking wolves.” But he smiled when he said it.

Yeah, they were okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it :)
> 
> You can like/reblog [here](https://a-well-of-many-words.tumblr.com/post/636175050540793856/bitter-truth)
> 
> Stop by and say hi!


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